


discotheque

by ghost_001



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Sexy Zone
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kenty has a disco ball in his room and that prompted me to write this lmao, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_001/pseuds/ghost_001
Summary: "You like it?" Nakajima says as he sits down next to him, and Fuma smiles, grateful for even a little bit of a playful opening to the conversation. He takes the glass of wine from Nakajima's hand and brings it to his lips."Not as much as I like you."(or, in which Fuma doesn't know love beyond the overly intimate kind but Kento makes him understand.)
Relationships: Kikuchi Fuma/Nakajima Kento
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	discotheque

**Author's Note:**

> This is SO messy, sorry in advance 🙇

Fuma's nervous for some reason. Maybe it's the wine he had that's making his head swim, that got him tapping his foot on an anxious rhythm. Maybe it's these lights spinning around the room, multicoloured and pulsing out of beat. 

Or maybe it's Nakajima dancing to some random music he found on youtube again, wine glass in hand while he sways. He's unimaginably slow in his movements but there's something intense to it that rouses Fuma's imagination.

The way his hair was put behind his ear, the way his lips lightly mouth the lyrics of a song he's never even heard before. A saint could tell you Fuma's state of mind isn't at all pure- But his intentions are, at least. He didn't come here to have their usual fun, as wild of an idea that might seem. 

He's here for something... lighter. At least that's what Nakajima said, as if it made sense. Something like a break, a one on one time, a hangout between buddies. It sounded boring so naturally Fuma refused. Moved on to kiss him but was sidestepped.

He very casually said that he'll never talk to Fuma again if he didn't go along with him even, like they didn't snog each other for the last six months. The man knows Nakajima close enough to know that that was said in jest but he also knows that Nakajima's a stubborn bastard, enough that he'd follow through his own words, however irrational it sounds. 

Fuma denies forever that he panicked at the thought, and will give you a parodied version of the story where he suavely agrees with Nakajima for "something a bit lighter than their usual", hands absent of sweat that was definitely a tell-tale sign that he worried. 

So when he sits there at Nakajima's bed, staring at his "lover" dancing a few distance away from him, it's not sweat that's on his hands. Definitely not. He's not nervous, he doesn't like to think that he is. 

Nakajima hums, a low tune under his breath that's barely audible with the music going on but still, it manages to make Fuma relax. It's a familiar sound in an unfamiliar situation and he catches it like fish to a lure. 

"I've heard that song before," he says. He pretends to be occupied with a string on the cuff of his shirt despite feeling Nakajima's stare settling on him, his impromptu, slightly drunken waltz startled to a halt. "You sang it in our dressing room this morning."

"I did?" 

"Mm." He remembers it actually, because they were alone together without the other three and they didn't smell like sex for once, and instead what filled the air was the steady mood of tranquility and lavender. It wasn't hot breaths on his neck and a vision filled with lust, but rather a silence he didn't think he'd be comfortable in. It was unfamiliar, as is the same with the atmosphere right now.

"You like it?" Nakajima says as he sits down next to him, and Fuma smiles, grateful for even a little bit of a playful opening to the conversation. He takes the glass of wine from Nakajima's hand and brings it to his lips. 

"Not as much as I like you."

His partner probably sensed whatever mood Fuma was leading to with that, so he snorts, unimpressed. "We're not doing that, Fuma," he says and Fuma blinks, surprised. It's not everyday Nakajima would call him by his first name so nonchalantly like that, more so outside of their more intimate moments. 

Nakajima snatches the glass back and sets it aside. " _Lighter_ , remember?"

Fuma rolls his eyes and huffs. "And it's ridiculously boring," he says, missing the hurt that flashes in Nakajima's eyes, the way he blinks it away. "What's your idea of "lighter" anyway?" he continues. Fuma gestures towards the lights from the spinning disco ball near the TV, nothing short of incredulity in his tone. " _This?_ "

Believe him, he doesn't like to put Nakajima on the spot. His words aren't heavy; he doesn't put too much thought in it, was the problem. The other man stares towards Fuma at that, in his eyes the beginning sparks of anger. His cheeks turn red in a flush of humiliation.

"You wanted to stay," he says, words sharp despite him feigning indifference. "You're welcome to leave anytime."

Fuma shakes his head, a bit too quickly, too fast. He blames that on the wine too. "Sorry, it's just-" He looks at Nakajima and he's patient despite the piercing tension. "I don't know _what_ to do." 

And that's exactly it, really. It's a simple admission but Nakajima seemed to get it, the same way he just knows things about him, so the silence dips in for a minute or two before it's broken with a sigh. Nakajima stands up from the bed, turns to Fuma with a spin to his heel, hand outstretched. 

"What if we dance?" he says. 

Of course Fuma's confused. 

Nakajima Kento is a man who's blunt, who's very direct with his words for all that they're laced with delusion but the one in front of him speaks like he's made out of riddles. Nakajima's not a difficult puzzle to solve- Yet Fuma can't seem to figure out what he's trying to do. 

But _what if we dance?,_ he wonders, and because he doesn't have anything else to do except mull over Kento's meaning of "lighter", Fuma takes his hand and let himself be pulled up. 

The music's slower. It's a companion to the arm around his neck and his own behind the small of Kento's back, hands intertwined and foreheads nearly touching. It's intimate yet unfamiliar, an uncharted territory he finds weirdly strange and comforting at the same time. It's an oxymoron in every sense of the word. He doesn't know if he likes it. 

Kento smiles softly as Fuma fumbles in his steps. He leads them together in a waltz that Fuma's not sure is even close to a proper waltz, but there's laughter in the air when they dance, and he remembers days when they were clumsy and young, chortling jokes as they tried to make sense of what they were doing. 

"Nostalgic, isn't it," Kento says in a whisper, a sudden weight in his voice that anchors all of him down. "You were clumsy back then- I swear you had two left feet." There's playful stars in his eyes when he says it, twinkling as he peers up to him, a chuckled breath. They're mesmerizing when they reflect disco lights, and Fuma reminds himself to not get lost in those eyes. He looks to the floor instead. 

"Wasn't my fault the teach' gave shitty instructions," he grumbles back, careful to not step on the other's toes. "I wasn't half as bad as you, at least."

Kento snorts at that, and Fuma fights a grin. "Of _course_ I wasn't as good as you. I wouldn't be so foolish as to think otherwise!"

"Look at us now, though," Fuma quips, the corners of his lips upturned. He raises their intertwined hands and on instinct, Kento spins on the ball of his foot, steps back, and readily gets pulled again close to Fuma's chest. Their gazes meet, two worlds colliding. "We got better." 

Kento looks stunned. If Fuma knows the way Kento loves him, he would've known how tender he holds him, the way his fingertips burn against Kento's back. He would've known the way Kento's heart thuds in his chest, the breathtaking kind, like unrelenting drums.

But Fuma doesn't know, not even the depths of it, so he wonders why Kento looks like that, like first love born out of heartbreak. 

"...Yeah," Kento says and after a few seconds, a smile forms on his lips, all teeth and happy. Pink dusts his cheeks; a tell-tale sign of falling. "Yeah, we did."

It's a chaste kiss he gives to Fuma, a peck to his lips that's gone as quick as it came. The man blinks at that, slightly bewildered but before he could retort, Kento grins at him, bright like sunrise.

"I love you."

It shouldn't be weird hearing that. He's heard it before, during some nights they couldn't really sleep in, when they both seeked each other's warmth.

But it's weird hearing that now, especially now, in a disco lit room with them standing in the middle, fingers interlocked and faces mere inches apart. 

It's weird hearing that while they're being so normal and so mundane, when they did nothing but talk to each other endlessly as if they had all the time in the world. There's the potent absence of lust, no trace of sex-filled craves because the mood is all wrong and they're not on a bed, _they're dancing_ , tangled in sheets, hot breaths on his neck and lustful gazes just for the sake of it-

"You're fun to be with," Kento continues, his grin dimming. "I love your laugh, the way you carry yourself, and you're too proud sometimes but I think it's admirable."

Fuma lowers their hands, notices the slight shake in Kento's and recalls that while they've kissed each other so much their lips bled before, they never did this _proper_. 

"I love it when you sing- I think it's the most beautiful sound in the world. I'm in love with the way you smile at me sometimes when you cook curry in the morning. We'd wash dishes afterwards together, and we don't talk much but I love that you're still beside me."

He rambles a lot, Fuma realizes. The words are a buzz to him, like static not coming through but he hears them the most out of all the noise, the music, the whirr of the AC. Kento's feelings are loud, he realizes. 

It's ironic that Kento says that they're here for something "lighter", but Fuma's heart is heavier than its ever been. 

"I love performing together with you and I wish I could've been satisfied with just that- But I dream us together sometimes, forever, and I know you don't want commitment but I really think--!"

\- He knows how to fix this familiar heaviness, at least, and Fuma's not exactly proper in the first place. 

He tries to imitate his kiss. It's not searing but it softly melts, leant unto as his grip tightens on Kento's hand. He holds steadfast in between shaking fingers, notes how it calms down in seconds before he feels Kento pressing back. It's not quick but it's just enough. He pulls away.

"I love you, too."

It just occurred to Fuma that he's never said it before. 

There's a shine to Kento's stare, wide with surprise as if he hadn't expected Fuma to ever respond. To be frank, Fuma hadn't expected it too- His mind catches up to the words he spewed out and his face burns, heartbeat louder than usual. There's an alarm in his mind telling him to rectify, to take back the words from embarrassment but everything's lighter now, definitely, so he's sure he's said the right thing. 

Kento though, he doesn't say anything. Not really. He wears his emotions on his sleeves and it's already clear from the expression on his face what he was thinking. Like confidence though, like courage, his smile gradually returns and Fuma's never loved anything more. 

"I'm glad," he says, as true as the sky is above them. He leans on Fuma's shoulder, and the arm around his neck pulls him forward. 

Fuma dares one look at Kento, and he's the picture perfect example of contentment with his head laid on Fuma like that. They sway still, Fuma's touch on the small of Kento's back, an arm around his own neck, gentle caresses- but the music feels muffled now that Fuma realizes what Kento's been leading him on with, this impromptu visit of them doing "nothing" but "lighter".

Maybe he should've realized it sooner, a few months ago when he kissed Kento for the first time, messy and uncouth. Maybe he should've realized it when they were teens just getting by, when Kento held his hand as they danced. Maybe it should've been much sooner, far back when the stars aligned to have them together, when he first saw him in youth's hue. 

It doesn't make the now any less precious though, he decides. There are finer situations than two lovers slow dancing in a disco-lit room filled with music, they both know that, but there's really nothing better than being in each other's company in the end. 

And that's fine, actually; As long as his company's Kento, he doesn't mind spending an eternity with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This took me longer than it should've, but I've got sea-legs in regards to writing. How do you even close one-shots? With hugs?? Can you tell that I have no experience in writing fluffy romance??? lol it's bad
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
